Game, Fight
by Ammom
Summary: A chronic disease is driving people to extinction. Once his mother falls victim, and his father's departure, Squall's son becomes a student in the space Garden where he's taught to destroy fiends. Is that his destiny, or just his choice?R&R please.SEC03UP
1. PROLOGUE

Tress had believed it was just another day. He had sat on the couch, watching the news when he heard his father pick up the phone. His father cut off, and hearing the gasp, Tress turned around to peer over the back of the sofa. The man stood there speechless; his back to the kid. Tress watched him precariously, seeing the way his father's body tensed. At last Squall nodded, muttering a few words before slowly setting the phone back down. He held his hand there, breathing becoming a burden.

"Who was that Dad?" asked Tress, tilting his head.

"I have to go pick up your mother," Squall told him levelly. His hand slipped from the phone, but he seemed unable to move.

Tress remembered the calm feeling he had had, thinking that his mother was having just another bad day. He was too young to realize what was happening to her. His father would always snap at him when he brought the subject up.

"Can I come?" asked Tress, beating his legs against the couch. There was nothing to do at home.

Shaking his head slowly, Squall replied quietly, "No, you best stay here. I'll be back soon."

Without a glance at his son, Squall snatched the keys from the kitchen table, swinging his arms into his jacket as he neared the door. Sprinting off the couch, Tress came to a skidded halt on the wooded floor, calling, "Dad!" Squall paused in the doorway for a moment. Still he didn't turn to his son. "I just wanted to say I love you."

The man paused with hand on knob, staring blankly at the door. Tress grimaced at the tension; his father's hesitation drifting around him. After another moment, Squall just shook his head, swinging the door open and striding out into the midday sun; letting it slam shut behind him.

Tress remembered when they finally returned. He had been sitting despairingly on the couch, with one leg resting beneath the swinging one; remote held loosely in his hand, though the television wasn't on. He hadn't bothered with the lights. Seven chirps rang out from the cuckoo clock, making the boy frown. Squall had been gone for four hours now. How mother's work was only fifteen minutes away.

The sound of car doors slamming alerted the boy, as he raised his head hopefully. As the doorknob turned, Tress scrambled off the couch as it opened. A moment later his father strode in, guiding a blank eyed Rinoa.

"Mom!" cried Tress joyfully as they approached. They just strode past, and the smile slipped from their son's face as he watched his parents retreat into their bedroom.

Tress later discovered that his mother had been diagnosed with the chronic disease Lunar Revolver. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table throughout the night, not being able to sleep. When at last his father emerged to pour himself a cup of decaf, Tress looked up gloomily.

"What's going to happen to Mom?" he croaked, tears coming to his eyes.

Taking a sip of the coffee, Squall lowered it slowly, replying, "I don't know. She doesn't even know where she is at the moment."

"But," protested Tress earnestly, tears flowing silently. Still his father didn't look at him. "There's treatment now, right! Can't that help her!"

Pausing for a moment, Squall told his son, "They said the case has been developing slowly for the past four years. The reason they hadn't been able to trace it was because it started at several spots; too small to be noticeable."

"How can they not notice _that_!" exclaimed Tress, rising so fiercely that it caused the chair to fall back. "I don't understand! They _knew _there was something wrong, why didn't they—"

"Enough!"

Tress cut off, his shoulders slacking as his breath came in deep gasps. Squall's body remained barricaded against his emotions. The son watched father in despair and need. Tress had never heard his father mutter the words of appraisal or affection. Squall's attitude towards him made the boy wonder if his father pictured him only as a mistake, as something he wished shouldn't have ever been.

Looking around the little home gloomily, Tress noted the peeling wallpaper and the stained, wooden floorboards. Things had worsened since the fiends' assaults on civilization. Money was a dire need, and hard to come by. Both Tress' parents worked. All the boy could think was, _and this is where their hard work has gotten us?_

Shaking his head, he strode to the fridge. He grimaced at the nearly empty trays, reaching in to take out some cold eggs. Grabbing a fork from the drawer beside his father, Tress didn't glance at Squall before striding to sit at the table. Minutes passed as the boy ate, his father remaining motionless.

"I have to go to work," Squall told him levelly. Tress continued to eat his breakfast. An awkward moment stretched till at last Squall sighed, setting the mug down. Taking the keys from the table, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Watching his father as the door closed, Tress' heart raced as he scrambled to the window. Pressing up against it, he watched the man stride down the path, getting into the car with another slam. As the engine started, Tress pounded against the window. Squall looked up at the noise, meeting his son's large, hazel eyes.

At that moment, the man thought about how much they looked alike. Tress had inherited Squall's hair color and flow, with his mother's narrow eyes. They held the same glossy appeal as Rinoa's as Tress stared back at his father. With a shake of his head, Tress watched him pull out of the driveway.

He never forgot what took place that night. Tress had been watching television when he heard a loud thud. He sat up at the noise, staring down the hallway at his parents' bedroom. After a silent moment he carefully slid off the couch, striding slowly around it to stand in the doorway. Tress' pulse quickened, as he waited.

"Mom?" he called, walking towards the wooden door slowly. There was no answer. "Mom?" he said more loudly, stopping beside it, putting his ear up against the structure. No sound came through.

Reaching his hand up, Tress slowly turned the knob. Releasing a deep breath, he let the door creak open. At first, as he strode in, Tress didn't see anything peculiar, but found the room fascinating. The doublewide bed rested against the far corner; the window lingering above the edge of the mattress, its curtains closed. Beside it stood a biro with a few scatter objects and picture frames. He strode to the biro, grimacing slightly at the pictures there. One captured his eye. Picking it up, Tress wipe the dust away to reveal a younger Squall and Rinoa standing with a group of others. He smiled at them, recognizing them by face.

When Tress was younger, about four or five, his parents' friends used to come and visit. But times grew hard, and travel became difficult. They received news through the following four years of their friends' recruitment into the Celestial Garden upon its opening. Squall had told his son about Garden, and how Tress' father was once trained and raised there to defeat the sorceresses.

A soft creak caused the boy to turn in surprise. Tress rushed over to his mother, lying on her side on the floor. Rolling over the unconscious body, Tress shook Rinoa, crying, "Mother? Mother!"

After a phone call and a trip to the hospital, Tress remembered feeling despaired at his mother's fragile body. He stood to one side of the bed, surveying his father as he sat close to Tress' mother. Squall rested his elbows on knees, shaking his head.

Ducking around behind the curtain, Tress released a deep breath. He froze at the sound of approaching footsteps, and the traces of squeaking reached the boy's ears. There were slight mutters and shuffling of papers.

At last Tress had heard, "Mr. Leonheart?" After a moment, the doctor continued as Tress peered around the curtain now, "It would seem your wife's case is worse than we thought." The boy frowned at the news, his body tensing.

"What happened?" asked Squall levelly. Tress remembered thinking how calm his father was, and how panicky he felt.

"There was a trace of a panic attack," the doctor told him a bit grimly. "The Lunar Revolver is a chronic disease that attacks body, mind, and spirit."

"You're telling me she's becoming one of _those _things?" snapped Squall lightly. With a grimace, the doctor nodded.

"That is the end result of the disease I'm afraid," he replied quietly. "There has yet to be found a cure. There was set up a Garden in space to train cadets to stop the fiends before they reach the planet."

The fiends, dropping from the moon since the incident with the sorceress Adel ten years before, traveled down to the earth. When they reached it, they'd bury themselves into the ground. Scientists confirmed that there was something in the chemicals the fiends brought with them that contaminated the soil. Despite their attempts to purify the food beforehand, the disease still leaked through. Celestial Garden was set up to teach their students how to combat the fiends in protective machines. Their field depended on their position and meka used.

Tress remembered his father getting into debates with his friends about the Garden and joining. Rumors of a colony being established in space caused much strife and rush on Earth. When at last one was built though, only a select few were privileged to move there. This created another riot.

Shaking his head at this, Tress no longer knew what to think. He remembered the last time his parents' friends came to visit. He had rushed out to meet them, but stopped at the sound of angry voices. Frozen in fear, the sound of approaching footsteps caused Tress to take refuge in the space between the door and wall. He remembered covering his ears, shutting his eyes as hard as he could, trying to force a headache upon himself so he couldn't focus on their shouting.

Tress shook his head of the images, their voices fading away as the doctor continued to explain about Celestial Garden. The boy had always pondered what life in space would be like. He dreamed that it was a life without worry or fighting. Tress was smarter than that however, and he knew it was possibly more risky up there then on Earth. He used to say whenever someone asked him what he wanted to go to school for, that he wanted to go to the Celestial Garden. His father greatly discouraged it, often times yelling at Tress for even suggesting it.

After an exchange of quiet words, Squall nodded as the doctor strode off. Tress watched his father with a new curiosity as he sat back down, sighing now in deep grief. Hs body began to shudder, and Tress watched in wonder and hurt himself at the sudden change sweeping over his father. The man he thought could never cry, could never shed one moment of despair for his family…sat there in torment over his wife.

Frowning, Tress took a step towards them, but then stopped, shaking his head. Every time he ventured close to his father, Squall just pushed his son back. Tress remembered sitting down behind the curtain with knees hunched to his chest. He didn't know when he dosed off, but he remembered waking in the car. Looking up hazily, he caught a glimpse of his father's face, pale and expressionless once more, before he collapsed again.

The next day was filled with silent grief. Tress was told his mother would remain the clinic for treatment. The first night without her Tress remembered the tears that wouldn't go away; the aching in his heart, not having the comfort of knowing she was there. Despite his pitiful attempts, Tress' cries echoed around him. Squall didn't approve of it. Said it showed an opening of weakness. His father told him that if he didn't learn to be something other than helpless, he'd never make it in the world.

"I'm only eight!" he'd used to yell at his father, tears filling his eyes again. Squall would end the topic with a casual scoff.

Rinoa would guide Tress to the bathroom to wash up; determined to stay out of the continuous father-and-son struggle. Tress could never get answers from his mother about his father's attitude, and soon gave up.

Tress remembered making a promise to himself that night he'd regret for the rest of his life…_But I _won't _give up…_

The following day they were driving, which Tress found rare. They hardly went anywhere, so he assumed they were visiting his mother. For what seemed the first time, Tress sat in the passenger seat. He stared out the window curiously, feeling that it was a different viewpoint, wondering if what he was seeing was the way grown ups saw things. It didn't seem that much different, though it did send a thrill through the youth.

Not looking at his father, Tress asked, "So why is it we're like this?" He tried to keep his voice simple, uninterested.

Fixated on the road, Squall asked, "Like what?"

Looking at him, Tress replied, "So distant. Mom never told me why you…" He drifted off as his father's voice cut in sharply.

"Stop talking foolishness." Tress frowned slightly.

Moderately discouraged, he commented in a softer tone, "But that's what I mean…" Squall's eyes passed over his son's expression for a moment, and hint of regret sparkled in his eyes before he turned to the road once more.

"You mean, why am I so hard on you, is that it?" Tress looked away, knowing his father would claim that he could be worse.

"I know," muttered the boy as Squall opened his mouth. "You're hard on me because I need it." _That's what you always say_, he thought grimly. Closing his mouth, it was another few moments before Tress noticed they hadn't taken the exit to the hospital. Looking up in surprise, he turned to his father. "Where are we going?" he asked, heart racing. Was he panicking? Had he been? When Tress thought back to that moment, he wasn't sure. "This isn't the way to the clinic," he added.

Squall eyed him, stating, "How would you know? You've only been there once since you were born."

"That was the turn back there," Tress said, swallowing, glancing out the window.

After another moment he heard his father say, "You're going to live with your grandfather."

Snapping to attention, Tress turned to the man angrily, saying, "Why do I have to do that! I'll be far away from Mom!"

"It's not your decision," Squall replied flatly.

"Well then, what about my stuff?" retorted Tress, searching his mind frantically for an excuse.

"I packed your clothes when you fell asleep," he replied.

"How can you just decide this! It's _my _choice!" Softly he added, "I don't understand." Lifting his eyes to his father, he asked, "You don't want me here, that's it, isn't it? Mom always tried to tell me that you really _did _care, but…" Sitting back Tress redirected his gaze to the armrest on the door. Squall's body tensed as he fought with himself.

"That's right," Squall told him numbly, nodding slightly.

Tress stared at his father in horror. He could feel the bitterness rising up in his chest, catching in his throat. His breath came in short gasps, and Tress' lower lip trembled. Squall closed his eyes for a moment as they came to a stop at the lights.

_It's _not _true!_ Tress shook his head in disbelief.

"You're lying!" he shouted at his father.

Squall eyed his son, saying levelly, "You would think that…"

"You're my father!" Tress shouted. "_You're _the reason Mom's like this! If we had just gone with the others up to New Esthar—"

"Don't start with that!" Squall shouted at him. "Don't blame what's happening on me!"

"Why not! _You _were the one who let them get down here! Just so you could defeat some stupid sorceress!"

"You have no idea what I've done," he whispered, shaking his head.

"No, I don't!" shouted Tress. "Because you never let me know! I'm more than just a child!"

Turning to his son as he began to round the corner, Squall retorted, "You're not acting like—"

"Dad!"

Squall turned back, swerving as he attempted to move. It was too late. A car plowed by them, grazing sides. Squall fought to remain in control of the car as it went spinning across the highway and into the other lane. Tress held the seats tightly, struggling to stay still; head swarming and eyes shut. Images of his mother and father of the past couple days passed through his mind. The screeching became unbearable; the movement too much to take.

Tress' head hit something, and his body slumped. When at last the car stopped moving, his eyelids struggled to open. At last as they did, he fought to focus his eyesight. Tress caught a glimpse of his father, body slumped against the car door. Reaching towards the motionless man, Tress quietly called out for his father, stretching his fingertips against the restraining seatbelt for Squall's hand.

"Father…father…" His words turn to pleas as tears came to his eyes, his vision stirring; the edges darkening. There was a sudden motion before him, and relief swept over Tress as his Squall began to stir. The last thing he remembered was being shifted before he lost consciousness.

Whenever Tress thought back to what happened, his heart filled with grief. When he awoke three days later in a hospital bed, his mind drifted towards Squall.

"Father!" Sitting up with a jolt, the nurse beside him jumped. Tress looked around anxiously, his mind racing with what happened. "Where's my father!" he exclaimed to the frightened woman.

"D-Doctor," she stuttered as the nurse headed for the door.

A moment later the same man treating his mother arrived. Tress looked to his left, seeing the motionless Rinoa lying in the bed beside him. Turning to the doctor, Tress asked anxiously, "_Where's_ my father? He was in the car, and wasn't looking when—" The boy drifted off at the despairing look on the aging man's face. "What happened?" demanded Tress, body beginning to tremble. Flashes of his body raced through his head. The motionless way he had laid there caught his breath.

"I'm afraid he didn't make it," the doctor told him quietly, holding tightly to his clipboard at Tress' widening eyes.

After a moment the boy told the man darkly, "You lie…"

"Please listen—"

"No!" shouted Tress. "_You _listen! I saw him! He was fine! He was moving!"

"Yes," the doctor replied, nodding his head. The nurse turned away at this. "He _did _awaken, and with few injuries I imagine, but…"

"But what!" demanded Tress at the pause. "If he wasn't hurt badly, then he should have been fine! He _should _be fine!" His hands tightened on the covers, gathering them in shaking fists.

The doctor looked almost thoughtful for a moment before replying, "After your car came to a stop, another also went out of control. We imagine he must have seen it coming towards you, because when his body was found, he laid half out of the passenger seat; the other half gone."

"What are you saying?" Tress asked quietly, his body trembling horribly now. "What happened to my father?" The brims of his eyes filled with waiting tears as he looked up.

Swallowing, the middle-aged man replied, "You were found in the backseat, Tress…they've clarified that he saw the car coming, and then unbuckled you, placing you in the back before it made contact."

Tress' jaw dropped, and after a moment he managed, "Y-Y-You mean…" His widened eyes were clogged with tears as he croaked, "That my father _died _to save _me!_" The doctor nodded in response. Tress stared at him in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as he sat back. "No!" he shouted finally. "You're wrong! You're lying! Why do you lie!"

The doctor had had to call the nurses in as he thrashed about. Finally after giving a drug was injected, Tress settled down. For the following few days he remained in that room, speaking to no one, just staring into the memory of his father's last moments. At last, after Tress had recovered enough, his grandfather was called, and arrived. Tress had been given his undamaged pack. The boy didn't touch anything in it, but only nodded. He strode out of the room fully dressed with a new pair of clothes, and into the waiting room. An aging man, around fifty stood staring out the window, hands tucked in his pockets. He dressed casually, his middle-back hair held in a down ponytail. At the sound of approaching footsteps the aging man turned to him. His face was kindly; lines having formed around the sides of his mouth. The right side of the man's face was shielded with a sway of bangs from where a pair of dark, friendly eyes shown.

"You must be Tress," he addressed the boy. Tress stood in the doorway, hand clasped to the pack strap on his shoulder; just watching this stranger. He didn't respond. After a few moments, the man shuffled his feet a bit as he told his grandson, "I guess you don't know who I am…"

"You're my grandfather," Tress told him flatly. The stranger looked up at this, nodding.

"So you _have _heard of me then."

"Not really," confessed the boy, watching the man blankly. "He never talked about you much."

"Oh," grimaced the man. After another moment he told Tress, "I'm here to take you back with me."

"Back?"

"To New Esthar." Tress narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Isn't that—"

"The space colony," his grandfather finished with a nod. "Celestial Garden is located right near it."

Tress remembered his mind racing at this. Squall had never mentioned where his father was. Tress had assumed at old Esthar, since he used to run it according to the deceased man. His eyes widened as realization dawned on the boy, lifting the dark pupils to his grandfather.

After another moment, Tress asked in disbelief, "My father was sending me to live in space then?" His grandfather nodded deeply.

"He figured that you could go to the Celestial Garden…if you wished to do so."

"But he always disagreed with it," Tress told him. He felt confused at this, shaking his head. "Why would he send me there _now_?"

"I suppose," the man began slowly, taking a couple steps forward. "It's because he thought it's what you wanted, even if he didn't agree with it. He wanted you to follow your dreams, and thought that since you weren't being _forced _into it, he'd let you go. I suppose what happened with your mother finally allowed him to make that decision."

"But why didn't he just tell me!" asked Tress softly. The kindly man knelt before his grandson. Tress kept his eyes focused on the stranger.

"Squall never was very open," grimaced the man. "I think he was trying to surprise you…" Tress looked away as tears drifted to his eyes. "My name is Laguna. You can call me what you wish."

After a moment the boy only nodded, and Laguna slowly straightened. Another moment passed before Tress asked, "Why haven't you aged from the pictures?"

Laguna looked down at his grandson with a smile, replying, "Due to the time it takes to travel to the colony, they were forced to find a way to extend human life. My aging has slowed a great deal."

"How long is the ride?" prompted the boy, turning to Laguna with a relaxed face.

"Takes twenty years to get there now," replied his grandfather. "I had directed its construction from Old Esthar. I was among the first to make the ride, but at that point it was only a three-year trip. Due to the on growing fiend count, the colony was moved further away. When we travel there, our bodies will be set in a frozen state so the trip won't take its toll on the passengers."

Tress grimaced, saying quietly, "My mother will get older." Looking to his grandfather, he asked, "Will she die in the time that I am away?"

Laguna met his grandson's eyes hesitantly. After a moment, he nodded grimly, replying, "Yes, she will." Tress stared back down the hallway in slight horror; eyes wide. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Laguna noted the tightened hand on his backpack strap. "Your father didn't want you here for it. He didn't want you to burden with her state of mind, nor her death."

"What about him then?" whispered Tress, hand shaking now, not looking at Laguna. The man noted the slight vibration in his voice. "Did he know he was going to die."

Shaking his head, Laguna replied quietly, "I don't know. I'm sure he didn't think it was now."

"Why didn't he get back there with me?" asked Tress quietly.

"There wasn't enough room nor time for the pair of you to get through the space in time."

"So he chose my life over his…" Laguna grimaced at this, watching his grandson's stiff posture. The man looked up in surprise at the light scoff as Tress added, "And here I thought he didn't care…"

Laguna frowned for a moment before telling the boy softly, "Squall has _always _cared. He just doesn't like people getting close."

"_Didn't_…you mean." Laguna closed his eyes, breathing becoming slightly heavy at the reminder. Another moment passed before Tress asked, "What's it like up there?"

"There are problems," Laguna began slowly. "But no one worries about the Lunar Revolver there."

"No suffering because of it, right?"

"Right."

Another few moments passed before Tress turned to his grandfather slowly, saying with a slight nod, "All right, I'll come with you."


	2. Sleep

As his mind drifted back to all of this, Tress stared out the platform window as the ground zoomed out. A comforting hand broke his trance, causing the boy to stare up into his grandfather's kindly eyes. Tress grimaced as he slowly looked back at the world he was leaving behind.

"Are you sure about this?" Tress' eyes sparkled with the morning's dew as he fought with this decision. "It's not too late yet." The boy stared up at Laguna, locking the gaze.

"No," he replied softly, looking away slowly. "I feel like I have to do this."

"It won't be easy," Laguna warned him. He grimaced slightly as he cast his eyes to the colony above; a distant object hardly visible only at night. "Celestial Garden isn't like the others. The death count is far higher. It's brutal, like training in the army except in space. Course," he added, with a slight chuckle, turning to Tress. "I can't really expect you to understand that."

"I believe your words," Tress told him, lowering his hands from the pane, the ground just a distant patch of gray now. Fixated on the sky now, he continued, "But I'll face the danger. There is nothing left for me here."

Laguna frowned at this, his mind toying with the notion. He knew that perhaps if he had been around, his grandson, the only family he had left, wouldn't have to suffer like this. Shaking his head, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Tress didn't say anything to this, but remained in a trance-like state till the lift finally came to a rest beside the shuttle. Laguna led him into the metal confinement, hand pressing lightly on the youth's back. Tress seemed to break out of his daze as the doors closed behind them. The boy looked back at them, startled. Laguna watched Tress in wonder and confusion. His grandson looked as if he wasn't sure where he was.

"Tress?" he questioned hesitantly. The boy straightened a little, seeming to come to terms with himself. After a moment he turned his narrow eyes to his grandfather, merely nodding.

"It's nothing," the youth told him. "Just thought I felt something, that's all."

Tress' mind wondered back to the doorway as they passed through the halls. He didn't see where they were heading, nor did he notice the people shuffling along around him, talking excitedly.

_Head home_ was what the voice had told him. When Tress looked back at the doorway, he thought he caught a glimpse of a woman dressed in a black dress with straight, dark hair.

The walls of the shuttle were made of feet of titanium, sturdy and new. The craft was built especially for transferring large numbers of people. The demand to get to the colony was increasing as the disease spread rapidly amongst the people. Though clearly excited about New Esthar, Tress noticed the hesitation in the citizens' movements; their feet dragging along the floor as though half wanting to head back. Their voices shook slightly.

"I won't see you often," Laguna told him, striding casually with hands in pockets. "Few visits are allowed through the years you'll remain there."

After a moment Tress questioned, "How long is that?"

"They say it depends," replied the aging man, flipping his bangs a bit out of his eyes. "Most it takes seven to ten years."

"So I'll be about sixteen and a half." Laguna looked down at his grandson curiously.

"How do you figure that?"

"It's just the average," Tress told him. "I took the average of the range you gave me and added it to my age."

"I understand that," Laguna told him. "What I don't understand is how you know averages with no schooling."

"I may be a kid," Tress replied defiantly, casting a dark look on his grandfather that startled the aging man. "But I know _some _things. I've had a lot of time to myself." Laguna nodded after a moment.

"So what else do you know?"

"The binary concept," he replied, shrinking his shoulder back as someone passed. "I studied a bit of information technology from the books in the library when I got the chance. Outside that and basic concept, that's about it though."

Laguna nodded once more, saying, "It would seem you've gained experience in a few fields. You've done well for yourself then it would seem."

"I get bored." Tress looked up curiously as Laguna broke into laughter. The youth hid a smile at the look of his grandfather's face. Ease passed over the lines, and the eyes seemed brighter now.

At a three-way cross people began to break off at the arrows; rooms specified in their length that ran all the way down the halls till out of sight. Tress stood beside Laguna as they watched the others depart.

"Where do _we _head?" asked Tress, watching retreating backs.

"We'll be told in a moment," replied Laguna, nodding ahead of them.

A soldier dressed in a white and blue suit strode his way through the crowd to them. Stopping before the pair, he saluted as he told them, "Sir, we have chambers awaiting you. Preparations for travel have already begun."

Nodding, Laguna replied, "Good. I wish to leave as soon as possible." The soldier nodded, saluting once more.

He turned and began leading them down the hallway. Tress watched his grandfather's smiling face curiously. He knew that Laguna had once been the president of Old Esthar, but news of his lifestyle now never reached their ears. Tress' parents hadn't the money to buy a terminal, so news of their friends never reached them. Any mail sent wouldn't arrive for another sixteen years.

At this thought, a realization hit him. "Will I see them there?" he asked. "My parents' friends?"

"Ahh, you would mean the SeeD group," said Laguna. Nodding, he added, "I'm sure you will soon enough. They've been wondering about you as well."

Tress grimaced as a thought occurred to him. "They don't know," whispered the youth. The president looked away at this.

"No, I didn't send them the message yet."

"Can I tell the?" asked the boy, looking to his grandfather. Laguna looked back, startled for a moment, before nodding.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'd rather hear it from you."

The rest of the walk to the room was quiet. The travelers had gone their separate ways, as Tress had grown grateful towards. Their constant chatter and strange looks agitated him. He never liked it when people eavesdropped. Then again, he supposed that he would never see most of them again.

At last they stopped outside a pair of doublewide steel doors. The soldier pressed his hand to a scanner, and they slid apart. Tress watched the process curiously. Laguna turned to the man as he took a step, saying, "It's fine. I know how to do this. I will just have one of the bots assist us. You get yourself ready."

The soldier only nodded before hurrying off. Laguna watched him till he disappeared around the corner. Turning, he strode into the white tiled room, Tress following as the doors shut behind him. The room was small, made up of a few biros and stands with various little decorations here and there. Two beds stood adjacent to the sides of the door. They were set on metal platforms, and Tress watched them hopefully, weariness taking effect.

Laguna went about issuing button commands into the back of an android. Tress studied it in interest. The expressionless face was curved perfectly with large, green eyes with dark locks tickling its cheeks and neck. It stood straight, clothed in a black jumpsuit. Tress found the stare hypnotic. It was only when his grandfather shut the back of the robot that he was able to snap to attention.

Immediately the android began moving freely, turning to Laguna now. "Mr. President, it's nice to see you again." Tress was amazed at how casual the voice sounded.

Glancing around the servant, Laguna told the youth, "Surprised, are you? New Esthar's technology has come a long way since it was established." Tress merely nodded at this. Laguna grimaced slightly before turning back to the android, but the meka was staring at the boy.

"What despairs you?" Tress looked up in surprise.

"You can tell when there's something wrong?" he asked.

It nodded, saying, "It is in our functions. We are programmed to notice the changes in face and appearance so we may assist in any manner that seems fit." After a moment Tress nodded, but then he shook his head.

"You're a machine," he told it frankly. "You wouldn't be able to understand anymore than you could help."

After a few moments of silence an announcement came on from the speakers on either side of the doors, declaring the preparations for takeoff. When it was finished, Laguna turned to the servant, saying, "Lola, if you would assist us in getting situated…" The android nodded, and strode over to a machine in the corner. Laguna turned to Tress, adding, "We have to undress. When we arrive, the awakening and cleansing process begins. To clear us of any bacterial infections we may have received, it requires exposure to our skin. Standard procedure."

Tress turned as he began undressing, his cheeks burning. But as the youth thought about it, it wasn't a big deal. He would be asleep, in one of the beds he supposed, for the next twenty years. If this was to prepare their bodies for the awakening, Tress wondered how embarrassed he'd feel when he found himself naked in presence of strangers. Folding his clothes and placing them in a corner beside his pack, the youth found himself growing a little excited. Despite everything that had happened, he would at least get to meet up with his parents' friends again, and even train in the space Garden. Tress couldn't help but feel this was a strange change as he followed his grandfather's example; climbing into one of the beds. The emotions he'd been caught in were misery and boredom with life. But as the boy pulled the covers up over his shoulders like Laguna he found it a sort of relief. Tress believed it meant that he wouldn't _always _feel that way.

At the sounds of footsteps, the boy looked over as the android Lola stood beside Laguna; blocking the president. When she moved, Tress began panicking at the sight. From a hole indented in his arm, a tube ran from Laguna's arm; the chord running along the floor to the machine on the other side.

Seeing his grandson's pale face, Laguna reassured him, "Part of the process, Tress. They freeze the very blood itself." Tress began to sit up as Lola approached him with a needle, the tube running from the back of it. She pushed him back down firmly, and boy glanced fearfully at his grandfather. "Don't panic, Tress. It makes the process worse. This is your first travel, so you don't have in the indent in your arm for the tube. The pain will cease soon. There are painkillers in that tube as well. She's going to insert it into your right arm to prevent complications with your heart."

"But…"

Before Tress could say anything more, the tube had been plunged into his vein. The youth squirmed as pain shot up his arm, filling his head till he couldn't see. The android let go of him as a glass casing spread up from his feet over his head; the tube fitted perfectly through a gap made for it. Tress' body eased some as the drugs took affect, creating a sleep cloud over him. He watched his grandfather as Laguna shut his eyes, already drifting into deep slumber. Cold swept over him as he slipped from consciousness; the last thing he remembered was wondering if this was what death was like.


	3. New Esthar

An immense feeling of calm swept over him. It was as though he were floating, cast in a place where despite that the light prevented him from opening his eyes, it didn't hurt. He wasn't panicking, and he knew no pain. There was no sadness, no joy, no despair, and no excitement. No emptiness, and yet no fulfillment. He supposed a utopia he had stumbled upon.

But suddenly the peace broke, and with a startled cry Tress collapsed. He laid shivering on a hard tile floor, limbs aching and head stirring. Around the youth people began to stir as well, muttering while some cried. Laguna lifted his head heavily, looking around him. They were placed in a room with glass doors sliding open as water retreated into the drains. Soldiers strode over to the citizens as they helped them to their feet, explaining things as they went about wrapping towels around their shoulders.

Laguna frowned at Tress, lying huddled in a ball, shivering horribly as his body fought for breath. Crawling towards his grandson, he laid a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. Tress jerked at the touch, and Laguna rolled him over.

"Medic!" he yelled behind his shoulder.

Tress had landed on his right arm. The whole created by the tube had skimmed across the floor, creating a large gap in his arm; the blood flowing down the drain he had been laying over. A few men dashed over to the huddled body, and seeing the wound, lifted him up, covering the bare body as they ushered the youth away. Laguna was attended to as he watched his grandson being taken away.

When Tress finally opened his eyes, his vision was blurred. He found himself staring a thin, metal railing, and when he looked up, he met Laguna's relaxing face. The president smiled daintily down at his grandson.

"What happened?" asked the youth, noticing the blankets wrapped around Laguna's shoulders. He felt cold, despite the covers pulled up to his neck. "Where are we?"

"We've finally arrived," Laguna told him. pulling one corner closer as his body shook visibly. "We're in New Esthar, Tress." The boy stared at his grandfather in confusion. He tried to sit up, but grunted as he felt his arm restrained.

Looking down at the bandaged wound, Tress asked, "What happened?"

"You fell," replied a doctor as he strode in, carrying some forms in his arms. Taking off his glasses and resting them folded in his upper pocket, he continued, "It would seem that you skidded when you fell, causing the tube indent to reopen itself. Rarely does this sort of thing happen, but there was no great loss of blood, and you seem to be recovering fine."

"Why am I so cold?" asked Tress numbly.

"Part of the waking process."

"We were frozen," Laguna reminded him. Tress merely nodded. The room was small with a comfy bed beside his own; a curtain drawn back to reveal it empty. Light poured through the windows and lace curtains. Not bothering with this, he turned back to the men.

"I remember," he told a worried Laguna, nodding slightly. He felt exhausted, despite the fact he'd been asleep so long. "I had a nice dream."

"Oh?" asked Laguna curiously. Turning to the doctor, he asked, "Is that normal? I thought it was supposed to be a dreamless slumber, after what happened a year ago."

"Yeah, that makes little sense," replied the man, placing his glasses the edge of his nose as he stared down at the papers. "There are no recordings of dreams. Least of all, not from your room."

Laguna stared at Tress curiously, but then said, sighing, "Well, at least you're all right now. That's what matters."

"What happened a year ago?"

"Another time," the president told him. "Rest."

The pair remained in the Transport Medic for the next two days to recover. Despite the doctors' constant reassurances, Tress felt like he had come close to dying. Dressing into a pair of new clothing; his old having faded and worn out. Tress looked himself over curiously. They clothing was much different.

Instead of his old capree shorts and t-shirt, they had given Tress a pair of baggy, black shorts and tank top. He looked up at his grandfather curiously, asking, "Does everyone dress like this?"

"Some," he replied, throwing on a new button down shirt over his leisure pants. "They gave you clothing that's popular amongst the kids in Celestial Garden at the moment." Tress frowned, remembering this.

"When do I leave?" he asked, looking around for a pair of sock and shoes.

"Not for another week or so, don't worry. What're you looking for?" he asked, pausing in the middle of a button.

"Shoes." Tress looked up as Laguna laughed. "What?" he asked indignantly.

"If you're looking for socks, we don't wear them here. As for shoes, we wear simple, silver styled boots. Come, grab your things and follow me."

Laguna led them down various white hallways filled with bustling people dressed in leather suits and skirts. Few glanced at the pair as they passed, going about their daily activities. Tress noticed everyone they passed were barefooted. He looked up at Laguna curiously, wondering what game his grandfather was playing with him. They paused as they reached a counter before a pair of sliding glass doors. Tress stood holding the strap of a new pack as Laguna conversed with the woman behind the counter.

"And for the child?"

"Small should do him fine," Laguna replied. The woman nodded, disappearing into the back.

Tress stared up barely over the countertop, his eyes shifting to his grandfather's smiling face. The youth still felt a bit chilly, but Laguna told him it was common. The woman reappeared, handing the man two sets of silver, leather boots. Striding over to some seats, Laguna held them out to the boy.

"Here," he said, sitting down. "Try them on." Tress took them in his hand, dropping the pack.

"Kinda small, aren't they?" he asked examining them. They were made of a type of leather material he hadn't seen before.

"Nope, they should be fine."

Shrugging his shoulders, Tress fell back, and started shoving his foot into one, suspecting it to get caught halfway. To his immense surprise his foot slid in easily; the material forming around it perfectly. Tress put the other on, and sat back, clicking the ends of his boots together curiously.

Laguna stood with a slight grunt, smiling at the stranger's reaction. "Like them?"

Tress looked up, saying, "Y-Yeah. I don't understand. Why were some people barefoot here?"

"They're used to the lack of gravity," Laguna told him. "You're not. I just returned, so I have to grow accustomed to it again."

"What's the matter with the gravity?"

"It's lighter here," the man explained, gesturing to the place as he rested his other hand in his pants' pocket. "You can just float around. These boots will give us the same feel of gravity as was on Earth. This place in particular was built for arriving guests."

"Oh." Tress looked back at this boots, frowning slightly.

_What would Dad think of these I wonder… _

Seeing the grim expression, Laguna knelt down beside his grandson. "Listen, you must be starving. I know I am. Here, I'll bring you to my favorite restaurant in the city, and you can order whatever you wish. Sound good?"

Tress smiled lightly, nodding as he got to his feet. Grabbing his pack, he followed Laguna to the pair of twenty-foot doors as they opened. Startled. Tress stepped through them carefully into a new world. The cobblestone streets running adjacent to black, tar paths where cars passed by unnoticed. Various signs and billboards were visible over the seemingly hovering buildings. People floated or strode past chatting excitedly, ignoring the pair. A dome surrounded the city; the other side out of site. The light passing over the city came from the stars and neon lamps floating around the city. It gave New Esthar a strange and exhilarating glow, though still somewhat gloomy. Strange objects with deep carvings stood around the streets; seemingly useless.

"Like it?" asked Laguna, smiling at Tress' awed expression.

"I don't know what to make of it," he confessed quietly, blinking as a neon light passed over his face. Looking to his grandfather, he asked, "Which way do we head?" Gazing around, Tress' head began ache just thinking about how big the city was.

As a response Laguna jogged down the steps, Tress pausing before following. The man led him down past shops selling clothing, antiques, furniture, books, and even a place to buy homes. He noticed however that there were no food stores. Tress stopped as Laguna turned, crossing the street. The youth hurried to catch up, avoiding being hit by a van. He looked back as he stumbled back on the sidewalk.

They passed around a corner and halted outside a tall building with a sign reading 'Chivalry Rights'. He stared at in wonder. Laguna however merely paused before striding through the door. Following, Tress arrived as his grandfather discussed seating with the headwaiter. Instead he gazed around the restaurant in fascination.

Relatively large, the little place was crowded with bustling waiters attending to their growing number of customers. Small, move lights of various colors shifted around the room, circling people and waiters as they passed along. Various beautiful paintings, signs, and logos hung on the dark, wooden walls. In the back Tress could see booths seated beside stain glassed windows.

Tugging on Laguna's sleeve with his left hand, Tress told him as the man looked down curiously, "Can we sit in the back? Near the colored windows?" Laguna looked up at this before smiling.

Turning to the waiter, he told him, "We'll sit in the back, if that's fine."

The man nodded before grabbing a pair of menus and leading them to the back. Tress was aware of the looks some people gave them, whispering behind hands. He felt uncomfortable, and shifted the pack on his shoulder uneasily. The waiter stepped aside to let them through, and Laguna slid into one end on the curved booth while Tress drew level. The waiter handed them both a menu before excusing himself to retrieve them water. Tress watched the man's retreat before dropping his pack down on the side opposite of his grandfather. Sliding in, Tress grunted as his right elbow struck the side of the table.

"Are you all right?" asked Laguna worriedly, leaning closer quickly.

Grunting slightly, he replied, "Yeah," before sliding in more carefully.

Despite the aching in his wounded arm, Tress found himself quite excited. He thought it a nice change from the despair he had felt on his way here. His mind drifted to his rude awakening a few days back, but shaking his head, Tress focused on the menu before him. Opening it, the youth was amazed at the selection. Everything was split into sections and varieties. Tress wasn't sure where to start. He was only used to his parents' cooking, whatever that was considered under. He glanced over at Laguna who seemed to be enjoying himself as he stared leisurely at the selection.

As Tress returned to his own choosing, a waitress strode over to them, carrying two glasses of water and placing them before the pair. Turning to the boy, she smiled, saying, "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?"

"Just arrived from Earth," Laguna told her as Tress looked up. The president sat with elbows resting on the edge of the table, hands folded into one another before him as he smiled at the lovely young woman.

"Ooh," she cooed, turning to Tress. "You must be excited then! Quite a trip! That would make you older than I am then," she added, laughing. Laguna chuckled at this as well. "So," she added, taking out a pad and pen. "What can I get you both?"

"I'll have the gourmet special," Laguna replied, looking at the menu. "Except perhaps with the onion soup instead of vegetable and a side dish of mashed potatoes please."

"Course," she said, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she took the menu. Turning to Tress she asked, "And you?" The boy looked at uncertainly. He was unfamiliar with much of the food listed there.

"Here, let's try this," Laguna suggested, closing the menu before him. Tress looked at his grandfather curiously. Turning to the waitress, he added, "Give him the same but with a side of sautéed mushrooms and chicken with onion soup. Perhaps some appetizers of kenips." The waitress nodded, smiling, before taking the second menu.

Tress watched her walk away before turning to Laguna, asking, "What are kenips?"

"They're a vegetable grown here," he replied, taking a sip of water. "Very tasty, and they will settle your hunger till our meals arrive." Tress hadn't noticed the pain in his stomach; his mind focused on the soreness in his arm instead.

The waitress returned a moment later with a small bowl of what looked like long, green leaf stems. Tress watched them apprehensively. He looked at Laguna, who gestured to the stems with a smile. Picking up one carefully, Tress nibbled it carefully. Despite a bit of a bitterness, it was juicy and soft. The youth sat on his knees, looking out the stain glass windows curiously; watching the citizens as they passed by. Few worse boots, making Tress conscious of the eyes watching his back.

"The others can come visit soon."

Tress snapped his attention back at his grandfather at this. Sitting down, he asked, still nibbling on the kenip, "Where are they?"

"Oh, they're spread out across the city," replied Laguna, taking another sip of the plain beverage. "You should really drink some water."

"I'm not very thirsty," admitted Tress, sitting straight as he took another kenip.

"You don't understand," Laguna, said, shaking his head as he lowered the glass. "Water is vital on this structure. Because of the radiation emanating from the gases and fumes used to keep New Esthar afloat, you have to drink a lot of the water provided. It will stop you from being dehydrated and the chemicals placed in it will prevent strange reactions."

Tress looked at his grandfather curiously. "Isn't there anything besides water then?" Laguna was shaking his head halfway through the sentence.

"No," replied the president as Tress drifted off. "The chemicals of other beverages conflict with the concoction placed into the water. It's a very important process. The water itself has to be completely cleansed of any bacterial regiments and then Lione is added to it."

"What's that?" questioned Tress curiously, nibbling on the end of the kenip.

"That's what the chemical placed into it is called," Laguna replied. "It's very important for several reasons. Because New Esthar is constantly in rotation, it helps to settle the senses so you don't become disoriented. It prevents the dehydration process, and builds your system up against the radiation. Do you understand?"

Tress nodded grimly, feeling that his new life was going to be an interesting one. He slowly took a sip of the water, nearly gagging at the bitter, bubbly feeling. Breaking into a fit of coughs, he tried to hide them behind an arm as eyes were laid on the scene. Laguna sat there, ruffling the right side of his head at the boy.

People looked away as the waitress approached shooing them away, before placing two trays of food before the pair. Tress stared down at the food in amazement. The special included a ten ounce steak with fuming sauces blended to make his mouth water; topped with chopped onions and mushrooms. A few stray kenip bits bubbled at the surface of his chicken rice and onion soup. A lemon trifle was laid beside the tray topped with whipped cream and chopped nuts. Another plate of food with fruit salad mixed with strawberry whipped cream beside a macaroni salad was placed on his other side.

The waitress smiled as Tress' amazed expression. Chuckling, she told him, "I hope you enjoy it then." She nodded as Laguna raised a hand in acknowledgment before turning and leaving.

Turning to his grandson, Laguna asked, "What're you waiting for? I know _I'm_ not sitting here staring at it in hopes it'll leap inside my mouth."

Tress promptly took up his fork and knife and began cutting into the steak. As he placed it in his mouth, warmth filled the youth, his ravenous hunger taking effect. As Tress reached his last bite of the trifle, Laguna chuckled at the joyful look passing over the boy's face; his own plates cleared and placed to the side. Tress sat back with a relieved sigh, his head nodding a bit.

"I take it you enjoyed your first meal here then?" he asked musingly.

Tress patted his stomach, sitting up as he stretched; careful to keep his right arm tucked in. Turning to his grandfather, he replied, "It was the most delicious one I've ever had. I think that made up two days worth of what I had at home." At this Tress frowned slightly, recalling what had brought him here. Laguna felt a pang of guilt in his heart and sympathy for the boy. After a few moments, Tress asked quietly, "Do you think my Dad and Mom would have liked it here?"

"Probably not you father," Laguna confessed. Tress turned to his grandfather curiously. "Squall was the most stubborn man I know."

"Knew," Tress corrected. Laguna frowned at this. The boy looked slowly down at his hands. After a few moments, Laguna rose to his feet with a grunt.

"We should be heading home," he told his grandson. Tress looked up at him as Laguna stretched.

"Where's that?"

"A large building that's set above the rest of the city. Just my way of sorta looking out for everyone."

"You mean you watch them," Tress simplified, nodding.

"I supposed," confessed the president. "If you want to put it in blatant terms. Shall we then? After all that's happened, you must be tired."

Tress didn't understand why he would be. They'd been sleeping for the last twenty years. But as he stood, Tress had to lean against the table, banging his elbow again, head spinning. Something felt wrong. Looking down, he saw that one of his boots had come off. Looking around frantically, Tress fought the urge to hurl. Seeing it on the seat, he clasped it feebly, falling back as he struggled to put it on. Once again, his foot slipped in easily. After a few moments his head and stomach began to ease. Laguna returned, seeing his grandson sitting there, clicking the ends of his boots together.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing," Tress told him, rising to his feet slowly, grabbing his pack.

As Laguna turned his back, Tress rubbed his elbow carefully. Striding through the aisles of eyes, the pair stepped out into a refreshing breeze. Tress raised his head to it, breathing in deeply.

"There's drafts here?" he asked curiously.

"Generated," Laguna told him. "Most refreshing for those who are always caught up in this city." Tress only nodded as they stepped out into the street to the other side.

Tress wondered what time it was, and then thought that it probably didn't even matter here. The people most likely slept when they felt like it. He studied the streets self-consciously as they strode past various stores and homes, noting the small details in case he ever got lost. Finally, when Tress thought he was dead on his feet, they arrived over a magnificent building. Though it wasn't as tall as the others, it was wider, and hovered in the air.

Laguna strode to the gates as they opened, Tress hurrying in his shadow. They stepped around the moving path leading to the entrance. The youth stepped alongside his grandfather, looking around him curiously. It was a sudden change from the city. On either end of the gates' interior was made up of a beautiful garden; sprinklers and water fountains dotting the area. Laguna stopped before a small lift. He looked at his curious grandson for a moment before stepping on it; Tress quickly following example. As they did, a dome spread up and over them, the lift coming to life. It gave a bolt, and Tress had to lean against the glass to keep his balance as they went speeding back. Taking a sudden lurch up as flaps opened, they came to a sudden halt on a floor. Tress felt queasy, collapsing to one side as the dome came apart and down. Laguna stepped off casually as the lift headed back.

"What do you think of the place?" Tress turned, standing as he did.

They stood in a massive room with an indention in the floor to one side, curved couches circling its rim. A table was placed tilted before the wide screen television. The far wall was made up of windows, giving a beautiful view of the city below. The large kitchen stood before a hallway leading down past where his eye could see. The carpet was milk soft, matching the off-white walls. Various paintings and pictures hung from the wall, including decorations from various places on Earth. Tress' breath caught in his throat at the size of the home. Above their heads was a black and silver designed banister below a paned roof.

"It's so big…" It echoed slightly, making Tress flinch a bit. "I never imagined one person could live in a place like this…"

"Well," said Laguna, gazing around as he rested hands in pockets. "It _can _get lonely, but I have frequent visitors, so you'll have to get used to that for the week you're here." Tress looked uncertainly at his grandfather for a moment before remembering his leave for the Celestial Garden. "Come on," added the president with a small wave of his hand. "I'll show you to your room."

Laguna led the awed boy down the hallway near the kitchen to the back where some black and silver, metal steps led up to the banister. Tress was awed at the turns in the hallways from there, but Laguna led him past them to the opposite side. Striding down the hallways, the man paused before a particular white door. Opening it as Tress appeared, Laguna smiled as he let the door creak open.

Tress stepped in, pausing as he laid eyes on the room. In the middle of the room up against the left wall rested a canopy bed with blue covers and white pillows resting attractively. Glass windows at the far wall led to a balcony, the curtains parted to either side. A table and chairs rested in one corner with a stand of books next to it. To the left side of the bed rested a nightstand, and beside that a biro. What really interested the youth was that a tub of toys lay open up against the wall beside the door, and a hoop stood at the far right corner. He looked up at his grandfather curiously.

"Didn't you play with toys at home?" he asked, a bit confused.

Striding in, and letting his pack fall, Tress knelt before the tub, surveying a truck in his hands. "No, not really," he replied, turning the toy over in his hands. "There was this teddy bear that my mom made me once, but that'd be back there," he added grimly. "Probably old and rotting away by now…"

"Well, despite that, you should be getting some sleep now," Laguna told him. Tress watched his grandfather expectantly. "Umm," added Laguna awkwardly. "Is there something I can—"

"She used to tuck me in," Tress told him.

"Oh," said Laguna, releasing a sigh of relief, smiling now. "Of course. Here, why don't you change into some pajamas. They'd be in that biro," he added, gesturing to the white structure beside the bed stand. "And get you some water."

Tress pulled open the drawers, bringing from them a pair of boxers and white tank top, just pulling the shirt over his head as Laguna returned with a pitcher and glass. The man rested them on the table, pouring the youth some before handing it to him. Laguna watched Tress as he drank it, taking the glass and refilling it before putting it on the boy's nightstand. Tress promptly jumped on his bed, climbing around the pillows and into the covers. Laguna unsurely pulled them up to his grandson's neck. Tress lowered them to his chest, staring at his grandfather.

"Thanks," he said.

"Of course," whispered Laguna, smiling. "I'm glad you decided to come."

Tress didn't comment to this, and after a moment Laguna straightened before heading to the balcony doors. He meant as if to close the curtains when Tress called, "No, keep them that way. I like the lights." Laguna glanced back, nodding.

"All right," said the president with a sigh. "But now it's time for rest, okay?"

Tress nodded as Laguna strode to the door, pausing with hand on knob to smile at the youth before quietly closing it behind him. As the boy rolled over, bringing the covers around him a bit, settling his mind into sleep, Tress thought that he wouldn't have minded staying here.

The next day showed no change in New Esthar's activity. When Tress awoke, stretching, he peered from his bed out the windows at the passing neon lights. He decided to call it morning. The youth was surprised he had slept, thinking that after all that time he would have been hyper. Sliding out of bed, Tress opened his door, striding down the hall and slowly down the steps to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, eyes widening. A soft sound rose from his throat.

At the noise the woman turned to him curiously. She had a spunky face with curled, shoulder length brown hair and twinkling eyes as a smile crept onto her curved face. She stood with white apron thrown around her narrow shoulders, one hand holding a frying pan, the other with a spatula poised above it.

"Well," she said interestingly, placing down the utensils as she leaned against eh counter. "Haven't seen you in a while."

At this Tress recaptured his senses, plunging his way at the woman. Startled, she held him, chuckling. "Selphie!"

"Who else?" she said, laughing. Pulling him away, she rested hands on knees as she met his eyes, asking, "I suppose your grandfather must have dragged you up here, huh?" With a goofy grin Tress nodded. Ruffling the boy's hair, Selphie added, "Eesh, got your father's hair, don't ya?"

The woman straightened, and Tress turned to see a smiling Laguna watching them. "So I see you've found one already," he commented musingly. Striding to them, he added to the woman, "Nice of you to stop by Selphie. Your timing's impeccable."

"You don't look much older," Tress noted, turning to the young woman.

"We've slowed down the aging process," Selphie told him. "Trust me, I'm easily three times your senior."

"Well," Laguna told them, turning to Tress. "I've already eaten while you were sleeping the morning away. I have to head to work. Selphie," he continued, turning to his friend. "Would you mind perhaps giving Tress here a tour of the city? And getting him some clothes for this week perhaps too."

"For the week?"

"Yes, he's heading to the Celestial Garden." Selphie frowned at this, merely nodding after a moment. Laguna exchanged the gesture before ruffling his grandson's hair lightly as he strode to the lift. After a moment of whirring, the president was gone.

Tress turned to his parents' friend, asking, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she told him, shaking her head. "Sit at the table there, your breakfast is done now."

Tress did as he was told, sitting at the long table in a seat beside the end. Selphie sat opposite of him, placing a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast before the youth. They ate in silence. Tress would shyly look up at the woman, but Selphie refused to meet his eyes as she stared grimly into her food.

At last temptation got the best of him. "Why don't you like Celestial Garden?"

Selphie sighed, placing down her fork. "Listen," she told him seriously. "I lived in Garden once, but that was safer than this one. You're taught combat in space, and there are _so _many more risks. Please, I beg of you Tress, don't throw your life away." The boy frowned at her.

"_You _were always the one telling me to not be afraid, to do what I want, and stand up for my beliefs." Narrowing his brow at her, he said firmly, "Well I _believe _that this whole thing is wrong."

"Tress, what about your parents!"

"They're gone!" he shouted, slamming his hands on the table as he pushed his chair back to rise. Selphie stared at the fuming child in horror as he continued, "My father died saving my life! And my mother's probably become a fiend by now! It doesn't matter what they would have thought now!"

Selphie sat, staring at him for a moment in disbelief. With a scoff, Tress shook his head, striding angrily to the lift, standing stiffly as it began to move. When it came to a stop and the dome released him, Tress realized he was still in his pajamas. Deciding he didn't care, the youth strode down to the gates as they opened, and out onto the cobblestone paths. He passed disapproving stares, taking any turn that came to him not involving crossing the street.

It wasn't until Tress saw a group of kids standing outside an ice cream shop that he stopped. One, a boy around eleven and clearly the leader, was boasting loudly to the others about his visit t to the Celestial Garden. "Yeah," he continued smugly, holding his head high. "They _especially _liked me. The headmaster said he'd like to see me come back soon." The few scattered around the boy muttered to each other, cones held in their hands as they discussed this new idol.

"Stop lying," said another, leaning against the side of the shop with crossed arms. He didn't lift his head as he continued, "I was right there with you the entire time. He didn't say that. All the headmaster mentioned was hoping for more visitors." The other boy's cheeks deepened, and the group laughed at this.

Tress surveyed the loner interestingly. He seemed about twelve with wind swept, dirty blonde hair enshrouding a refined face. He dressed like the others, in dark blue, baggy pants with a black tank top and no shoes. On his hands though were silver-lined biker gloves. Around the boy's neck hung a chained dragon amulet while chained clips hung from his pants reaching either side.

"What're you looking at?" asked the elven-year-old, his confidence back with a new victim at his hands. Tress looked to the lanky stranger dully.

"Just your ugly mug I suppose," replied Tress. From what he gathered of these boys, they were city folk. Tress had had to deal with punk kids picking on him back at home. He supposed the same rules applied up here.

Back in Old Esthar some of the breakouts with kids revealed dire consequences including broken limbs, deep wounds, and in some cases, death. There were times when Tress had to be brought to the hospital where his mother worked as a nurse. Part of the reason the boy hadn't gone to school was because of this. In the beginning Tress had been the victim till one day when he finally snapped.

An older boy named Husen was taunting him once more, commenting on his old clothing and pitiful lunch. It wasn't until the Husen had commented on his mother's random breakdowns that Tress lost it. He remembered tackling the bully to the ground before he went into a frenzy of punches, kicks, and bites. When Tress had stood, he went to wipe away the sweat trickling down his face. But when he pulled his arm away, he saw it was blood. He had stared down at horror at the mingled face of Husen. When they rushed the boy to the hospital, they confirmed he'd suffered from a broken jaw, arm, and three ribs. Tress remembered leaning against the back of his bedroom door, listening to father raging about the assault. Husen had had to have thirty stitches in his face. From there Tress had received a restraining order, making the little family move further into the city.

"Hey, are you listening to me, punk?"

Tress snapped back to attention as the bully shoved his shoulder, sending the boy back a few steps. The youth caught his balance, narrowing his eyes at the boy. The group shouted encouragement to their leader.

"Get him, Lafe!"

"Yeah, bash his face in!"

"Teach him he can't talk to you that way!"

The boy against the shop showed no interest, his head bowed. Lafe however sneered down at Tress. "Yeah, yeah, I got him," he told his group.

Lafe shoved both of Tress' shoulders this time. Stumbling back a bit, the boy caught his balance once again, keeping a firm look on his face. The bully looked at Tress uncertainly.

"What? You all mouth and no game?" Still Tress didn't say anything.

At this the loner lifted his head in slight interest as he watched the scene. Lafe made as to shove his victim again. Tress ducked beneath the boy's arms, and turning, kicked out behind Lafe's knees. The bully dropped with an outcry to hands and knees. Tress hovered above Lafe, a determined look creating the wrinkles above his eyes. The mutters from the group stopped abruptly as Tress turned his cold stare on them. Lafe took advantage of this, tripping the stranger. Tress fell forward into Lafe's fist. The bully proceeded to grab a hold of his tank top back, and pulled him up before punching Tress in the jaw now.

Tress fell back with a grunt. Spittle flew as Lafe pressed his foot into the boy's stomach, a grin widening as he did so. More jeers came from the group as the single boy watched in expectation. Leaning towards hi victim, Lafe taunted, "Aww, is punkass giving up already?"

As his torturer leaned closer Tress pulled back before releasing a venom-like reflex. Lafe fell back, struggling to take the saliva from his eyes. This time Tress didn't hesitate He thrashed out with his foot, catching the boy three times in the ribs.

Tress watched the huddled boy for a moment before telling Lafe, "No…I'm all fight and no pushover." The group of boys hurried past the stranger to aid their leader. Tress watched them calmly, his body still tensed.

The loner watched as well before commenting, "Well done." Tress turned to the older boy as he straightened. "I haven't seen something quite like that for a while," he confessed, glancing at the huddled group once more.

"I hate show-offs like that," Tress scowled. "Pushing around the weaker ones. Reminds me of my old home."

"And where's that?"

Tress grimaced as he replied, "Meh, Old Esthar." The boy's eyebrows rose slightly at him.

"Ahh, so you're actually _older _than I am. Interesting. I've never met an Other before." Tress stared at him uncertainly.

"Other?" he repeated.

"That's what we call you folk," he added, nodding his head. "See," he continued, gesturing to the cobblestone walkway. "The people here reside in a technology more advanced than Earth's. You people there don't realize the benefits we have at our disposal. Here no one's worried about money, or that Lunar Revolver either. Things are a bit on edge, but not _too _badly." He looked back at the crying Lafe for a moment. "Course, I could be wrong about that…"

"I guess I got carried away," admitted Tress numbly

"Nah," the boy reassured him, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "He got what was coming to him." Tress only nodded to this. He had an urge to trust this strange new boy. The loner reminder Tress of himself, except calmer.

"I'm Tress," he said after a few moments.

The boy looked him up and down. "Meh," he commented. "I'm just gonna call you Nubs." Tress looked at him in surprise and confusion. "It means roots," the boy explained. "Since you're from Old Esthar and whatnot."

"Oh," said Tress, realization dawning on him. "A nickname then. What can I call you?" The boy gave him a strange look, his mouth twisting at the question.

"Me? I never said I was giving you my name. You just decided to hands me yours, that's all."

"Oh." After another pause, the boy looked as the group ushered an injured Lafe away, glancing back nervously at the pair. "Then again," he added slowly as he watched the group's retreating figures. "You took care of that Lafe boy, who was starting to get on my nerves." Addressing Tress he continued, "Meh, you'll probably end up hearing of me quite a bit anyways. People call me Kiks."

"Kiks," Tress repeated, nodding.

"Well I have to go," the loner told him, sticking his hands in his pockets as he slumped his way slowly down the street.

After a moment Tress called to him, "Will I see you around again?" Kiks only waved back at him. Tress watched the boy in interest thinking that New Esthar was definitely _new_ to him.

When he returned home later that night, it was to fine his grandfather waiting for him in the living room. Selphie had left earlier that day, and despite Laguna's silence, Tress knew he had had a discussion with the woman. After a while the silence was broken when Tress told him about Kiks, leaving out the finer details.

The rest of the week was uneventful. Despite his traveling around the city, Tress didn't learn too much more about it, or meet anyone else. Laguna was busy with work most of the time, leaving his grandson to amuse himself with the television. He didn't seem to have any enthusiasm for the toys and games, though he had taken a liking to board games. When Laguna returned, Tress and him would stay up playing chess. The youth learned the rules quick, and steadily became a better player. After a few days Laguna had admitted defeat, and Tress had to bring the game to the streets, playing against any who challenged.

It wasn't until the last night with his grandfather that something more happened. Laguna brought Tress out to Chivalry Rights and they shared another large meal together. When they finished and were busy enjoying the warm feeling of fulfillment Laguna pulled from beneath the table a wrapped box, handing it to his grandson.

"Here," he said as Tress took it curiously. "I know it isn't much, and it doesn't make up for the years I've been gone, but I thought you might appreciate it."

Unwrapping the present carefully, Tress moved aside the tissue paper, pausing as he saw what lay beneath it. With careful, trembling hands he picked up a small teddy bear made of brown velvet with black patches here and there; a black bead eye hanging half off. Tress looked at his grandfather uncertainly.

"But how—"

"It's not the same one," Laguna told him. "But," he added, putting a finger to his temple. "I remembered I had a picture of you from your parents' friends, holding that bear. You said you missed it, so I had one made from the picture. I thought it might bring you some comfort, even if it's not the same one."

Tress looked down at in slight awe, commenting quietly, "Dad never liked it. He said I was getting too big for stuffed animals." He scoffed slightly, adding, "That was the only one I ever had." Laguna nodded knowingly as tears brimmed Tress' eyes. After another moment, Tress turned to his grandfather, asking, "What's Garden like there? Is it really hard?"

Laguna sighed, admitting, "That's actually the reason I brought you here. I wanted to tell you about the Garden while you still had the chance to back out." Folding his hands before him, the president explained, "Celestial Garden has you take a series of tests and exams, some on paper, others in generated fields in the academy." He paused here for a moment as if choosing his words carefully before continuing, "They keep the best students, and send the others back."

"So how do they combat them in space?" asked Tress, leaning back, holding the bear to his chest.

"Well," replied Laguna slowly. "See they then train you in the art of a type of weaponry that suits you. Should you exceed past that, then you put your skills to the test against the other groups. Beyond that is the _real _training."

"How long does this usually last again?" Tress felt like he'd been told this before, but his memory was still a bit hazy.

"You told me the average age for you would be sixteen and a half," he replied, the memory coming back to Tress faintly. "Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes not. If you don't make it within a certain age, I believe eighteen, then they send you back."

"So what happens with the last step?"

"You're taught to exert your skills into the meka."

"The machines," Tress simplified with a nod, using the common term.

"Right," Laguna confirmed with a nod. "Except these robots built to fit your body. Whatever actions you take within it, while hooked up of course, will be sent through its wiring, causing it to mimic you. However, they are extremely dangerous, and hundreds die every year just learning to use them."

"How are they organized?"

"They set up squads you see," Laguna explained. "Depending on your skills depends on your position as well as ranking. Tactians are usually set back in a craft, where they can maneuver around the area, giving feedback to the commander. Sometimes, if the commander is skilled enough, they can be the tactian as well. They take great precautions."

"So that's how it works," Tress whispered. Laguna nodded once more. After a moment Tress asked, "When do we receive the formula to still the aging process?"

"When you become an adult." Tress merely nodded once more, staring down at the bear now. After a few moments, Laguna frowned, saying quietly, "You still want to go, don't you?"

"It's not right," Tress told him quietly.

"Are you sure this isn't about vengeance?"

Tress turned to his grandfather, admitting quietly, "Maybe it is, but my father gave up his life for mine. If this was his gift to me, his way of showing me how much he really cared, then I want to use it to prove that I'm more than just a stupid kid."

Laguna nodded, saying, "That's an honorable reason, Tress. I respect your decision, for it's yours to make. I just hope you understand the consequences. I can't stop you, you're too stubborn for that."

"No, I won't let _anyone _stop me," Tress reassured him. Looking at his bear, he muttered, "After all, I _am_ my father's son."


End file.
